


sweatin' in the spirit

by tribunal



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Choking, Church Sex, F/M, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hair-pulling, Non-Explicit, Other, Reader-Insert, Sacreliege, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 23:17:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16293785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tribunal/pseuds/tribunal
Summary: wherein you get your cheeks clapped by a self-professed prophet





	sweatin' in the spirit

You’re a god-fearing person. Knees bunched up against pews, breath coming out in too-quick pants, arms propped up below you as you whisper supplications, huff out litanies praising both father and Father, but who the capitalization belongs to is anyone’s guess. Your skin is slicked with sweat, a fine sheen undoubtedly making the scarred hands digging furrows into the meat of your behind slip before they redouble efforts, whispered wantings murmuring their way to your ears. There’s something divine, you think, about this connection between humanity and humility, the man behind you hollowing out his own place of worship deep within your nethers, praises so akin to nectar falling from those same lips that—not but a few hours ago—were spitting out condemnations, fire and brimstone, putting the fear of the Father in the faithful.

 _Lust_ bumps a messy corkscrew of movement against your bottom, grinds out against that skin. You choke on your inhalation, tilt your head back with a sigh, the skin of your lower lip parting against the ivory of your teeth when he bunches his fist up in your hair, knots the thick strands with the same practiced movements he offers the rosary usually adorning his digits. He _pulls_ , the force accompanied with affectations, with quiet exaltations, the repeated slurry of your name. The Prophet pushes and pulls himself within you and moves that free hand from bottom to the pinch of skin underneath your chin, never-ceasing in his words, declaring you _renewed in both flesh and spirit_ and you can feel it, feel _it_ , the easy pace of him making way for a revival, a call to arms of your skin against his, a fixation of flesh something new and unburdened by simple whims in the face of the Father.

You don’t quite recall when you start crying, most assuredly somewhere between when that hand clamps down—mercifully—on your neck and when the proof of his divinity hits a spot within you that whites out the edges of your vision, causes both focus and fog. Your arms shake from exertion, lips form useless begging— _please please please_ —knees burning from the contact against the wood pew. And he shushes you, tongue tickling against the shell of your ear, hand against your hair guiding you according to his will ( _amen_ ), susurrations of verses ( _humble yourself, pray and seek my face, turn from your wickedness_ ) spiraling across synapses. His own tears trail down, mingle with yours, trek down your cheeks in a half-realized marriage, a pale parody of the life he’s offered to you in his prophesied new Eden. A partner for him, a parent to the Gate, a guide to his wayward siblings, no more questioning your place, no more wondering.

It all sounds wonderful, so mystifying that it is this thought—always, this one—paired with the closeness of both man and god that has you clenching down on him, the desire to be observed fulfilled by a omnipotent presence that demands only your all. You give it, give whatever it takes to fill that void, fill that empty space so akin to the one Joseph fills, is filling.

When he pulls away from you, there are kisses, tender and longing, your own gaze casting to the pulpit where his Book lies open, reveals wisdom. “Soon,” he promises, fingers removed from your neck, pressed up against where he’s laid his surname, stopping up, holding it in. “Soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> my tag on tumblr for joseph seed is "pissgoggles"


End file.
